Of Knives and Flowers
by Histoire de le Coeur
Summary: What if I said I love you?" He tried. After saying so, he thought he'd feel regret. But there was none. She turned around, taken by surprise. "What?" She whispered. Eponine/Montparnasse
1. Eponine

**A/N: Ta-da! I give you "Of Knives and Flowers", an Epparnasse romance. Enjoy or flame, your choice! Please enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: All is Victor Hugo's!**

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"Eponine!" He shouted quietly. The gamine whirled around to see him, more shadow than man. "De carons! De crampe icigo!"*

"I can't." She whispered, looking back at the Gorbeau House. "My father told me to keep watch for policemen."

"Just for a minute." He urged. "You'll be back before the philanthropist is gone." Her gazed turned remorsefully at this shadow-boy, then back to where her sister shivered violently under a street-lamp. Finally, her eyes landed on the dandy and said, "All right, 'Parnasse. But only for a moment." He smiled, his teeth illuminated in the melancholy moonlight.

"Follow me." Grabbing her pathetically bony hand, he brought her to a secluded dark alley, where no one would see them.

"Well, what is it?" she asked impatiently. If she wasn't back soon, it would mean trouble. She looked around, just to make sure a cop wasn't sneaking around the alleyways. None to be found. She turned back to face Montparnasse, but she was alone. The charmer of the shadows had sunk into the pitch-black night, leaving her shivering cold. She listened for anything, but there wasn't a rustle of leaves to be heard. Continuing her surveillance of the area, she started to feel watched. It was like an itch, but she couldn't pinpoint the source of discomfort. To her dismay, Eponine was right.

_Whoosh!_

Eponine felt something of frigid metal pressed against one side of her neck. A smooth hand dangerously caressed the other side. "You like?" Her assailant whispered into her ear.

"'Parnasse!" She gasped, clutching her heart. It was pounding so hard and loud, she knew it would have to drown out the bells of Notre Dame, by far.

"'Ponine." He said, evenly. "You're not answering my question. Do you like my new knife or what?"

"Oh." Eponine breathed a sigh of relief. "I'd say, but would you kindly remove it from my neck first?"

"Yes, of course." He replied, not missing a beat. He slid it off her neck, without spilling a drop of blood. Finding this a terrible first, yet a great achievement, Montparnasse repeated his question, "Do you like?" Presenting a sleek silver-bladed implement, Eponine fingered the ivory handle that seemed, to her, marble. It shimmered in the light and showed her reflection just like M. Marius's elegant mirror had.

"It's very pretty...and fear-instilling." She said, still contemplating why she'd compared M. Marius's glitteringly chaste mirror with this sharp terrifying torture device. Still, she didn't flinch away from the gleaming blade at her fingertips.

"Yet majestic," Montparnasse finished. "Would you mind if I named her 'Eponine'?" Eponine's eyes widened considerably.

_Am I flattered or horrified?_ She thought. "Should I be taking that as a compliment?" She asked, genuinely curious for 'Parnasse's answer.

"The highest." He said, eyes lit with a wild light. "And I want you to have this." Out of his waist-coat's pocket he pulled yet another knife. This one was older, rusted, and splattered with a red substance, that 'Ponine tried to distract herself from. The blade was decidely dulled and it's luster was a flickering candle light compared to "Eponine."

"Who's this?" She questioned, taking it right out of his hand. "An old friend?"

"_'Fleur de la Mort'_," He said.

"Flower of Death," They confirmed in unison. Eponine was absent-mindedly twirling the retired weapon around in her hands thinking:

_What would Monsieur Marius think if he saw me with this in my hands?_

Suddenly, Montparnasse's head cocked up, listening. "Policemen." He whispered. "We must separate." Laconically tipping his hat to Eponine, he left, dissolving into the velvet blanket of the night.

"You! Girl!" A rough man's voice called, brutally.

With that, Eponine fled, _Fleur de la Mort_ in hand.

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* = **"Let's go! Let's escape from here!"**

**Wow, that's the most I've ever described two knives "in my life" (hehe). That's it, no more 'Sweeney Todd' for me! :)**

**If the argot and asterisks gets to confusing, tell me and I'll stop. Hope ya liked, next chapter up soon!**


	2. A Rose and a Dahlia

**A/N: Woot! Chapter 2!**

**Disclaimer: Believe me if I'm Victor Hugo, Enjolras would've drop-kicked a few National Guardsmen before he was shot, Marius would have serenaded Cosette with an acoustic guitar, and Eponine would listen to Green Day. Still think I'm V.H.? Didn't think so.**

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_A few days later..._

When Eponine and her sister, Azelma, were released from Les Maldonettes after the ambush-gone-awry, the first thing Azelma said was, "I'm going home!" Eponine shrugged.

"There's no one there."

"I don't care, but I'm never going back_ there_ again!" Azelma snapped grumpily. She hadn't slept in all the time they'd been imprisoned.

"All right..." Eponine said, watching her sister take off down the street._ I wonder where Monsieur Marius is?_

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Montparnasse's eyelids fluttered open, just as the sun was ducking behind the horizon. He was in his flat, sleepily groping around for his rose and knife. Finally, his palm rested on something acutely pointed.

"Damn." He muttered, sticking his bleeding finger in his mouth. Picking up "Eponine" and his signature red rose, Montparnasse briefly considered cutting off the rose's thorns. "No." He said to himself, sticking the rose in his mouth._ I wonder where Eponine is?_

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Eponine was walking outside a wrought-iron gate on the Rue Plumet.

_Who could live here?_ She thought, wistfully. Kneeling down to pick up a wilting dahlia, she deeply inhaled the sweet exotic perfume of the garden's flowers. An image of Montparnasse with his prized rose sprang to her mind.

"Now that's odd." She murmered to herself, inconspicously picking the dahlia out from the garden. She was lost in a daydream full of sunshine when she heard a young girl's voice calling:

"Papa, I'll be in the garden!" Her high, soprano voice called from inside. Eponine cursed, unintelligelbly, then ducked behind the garden's stone bench. A girl about her age with glossy light brown hair, wearing coveted silk boots skipped into the garden. She was smiling like a puppeteer had attached strings to each end of her mouth.

"That's her!" Eponine whispered. It was, indeed, the girl who M. Marius had wanted her to find.

"Who?" A voice asked. Eponine practically jumped out of her skin, from surprise. She leaped, falling on top of the mystery voice's adjoining body. "Ow!"

"Sorry!" She cried, trying to get up. Whoever it was, didn't let her get up. They had wrapped their arms around her thin-as-air waist and had pulled her close. Eponine craned her neck around to see Montparnasse smiling, devilishly. "Montparnasse?"

"The one and only." He confirmed, attempting to talk around the rose in his mouth. So, it sounded more like: "E un an unlee." Eponine laughed, despite herself.

"Let me get up." She commanded lightly.

"What if I don't?" He proposed slyly. His radiant green eyes were sparkling with danger.

"I'll do this." She said, leaping up with amazing speed. She was so skinny that Montparnasse's long arms had not fully clasped around her. This little slip-up had allowed her to sneak through the crack left. "And take this." Eponine briskly plucked the rose out of his mouth by the stem and playfully dangled it in front of his face. Montparnasse, quite the sore loser, glared.

"Give me that!" He yelled. She danced like a tiny wood sprite, in the direction of a small field.

"Come and get it, Montparnasse." She challenged. Provoking him even more, she sprinted childishly, even farther towards the Field of the Lark. He picked himself up and started to slowly run to her.

"I'll get you, Eponine." He grinned, throwing his head back in the wind.

"Just try!"

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**Well, whatcha think? Huh, huh, huh???!!! Review! :D**

**Plus, I've been getting some complaints of OOCness on Montparnasse's part. If he still seems OOC, tell me what exactly is it? I'd like to know so that I may change it immediately!**

**-BnS**


	3. Method to the Madness

**Woot! Chapter 3! Been a while hasn't it? Well, I think I did it! I think I fixed Monty's OOC-ness! Tell me if you think I did or didn't! :)**

**Disclaimer: (singing) I never owned no Miz...**

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Montparnasse refused to be humiliated like this. What was he doing, after all? He was running after some girl, and undoubtedly looking like a madman while doing so. He was going to have to do something; something so that she'd never cross him again. It was funny at the beginning, but now it was just annoying. Just as he was going to try an ambush, Eponine stumbled over her boxy wooden shoes and toppled to the ground. However she continued to maintain a suffocatingly tight hold on his rose.

Montparnasse laughed, a bit haughtily. But Eponine was still smiling.

"What?" She asked naively. Montparnasse bent over and quietly demanded:

"Give me the rose back."

"Or else?" She giggled, completely oblivious to the dangerous edge in his tone. Not a shadow of fear flushed her face or hollowed her eyes. It faintly irked Montparnasse, so he tried harder.

"Or else..." He flipped out his knife. To his immense frustration, she continued to laugh convulsively.

"You wouldn't hurt me with my own namesake, would you?" She said, grinning so that her mouth resembled the night's crescent moon. Montparnasse scowled slightly.

_Why'd I do that?_ He thought._ He just asked me to get close to her. I didn't have to name my knife after her._

"Well would you?" She persisted.

"I suppose not." He replied, putting it back into his fob. Changing the subject, he said, "Give. Me. The. Rose. Back." Only this time, he didn't wait for Eponine's incessant response of giggles. He bent down, careful to not get dirt on his pants, and ripped the trembling rose out of Eponine's small hands. As he began to walk away, something got entangled around his ankles, and before he could regain balance, Montparnasse's forehead connected to the ground.

"What was that for?" He asked, more himself than Eponine.

"You leave a woman on the ground without helping her up? Shame on you." Eponine scolded, thinking herself quite humorous. Of course, by now, she'd gotten up and was standing over the fallen Montparnasse. A truly rare sight. "Now, I have to...uh...deliver something to Magnon. You can either come with me like a gentleman or stay here like an idiot."

She began to prance away, leaving Montparnasse in the dust.

_Who does she think she is? The Duchess du Berry?_ He thought, angrily. But he followed her, "out of pure curiosity" as he called it._What business might she have with Magnon?_He thought, once again, placing his rose in his mouth. He followed the fluttering soprano sound of her singing and the clack of her wooden shoes on the pavement. Though as he followed her through the silk-blue night, Montparnasse made it look like he might be preying upon her. _Should anyone see me._ He thought.

"Je suis tombe par terre...

C'est la faute a Voltaire..."

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**Review as if my last strand of sanity depends on it (if I have a last strand of sanity)!!!! -BnS**


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